tr m 

I SHORT HISTORICAL PLAYS AND FARCES, | 

S FOR M 

m COLLEGES, SCHOOLS, and LITERARY ASSOCIATIONS. rg 



I^'^OR MALE CHA RA C TERS. 



I ' CLONTARF. 

8 IN THREE ACTS. 

I THE OFFICE SEEICeRS, 

I - ^ i^n, 

M 

M IN OI 



r# 




i ARTHUR J. O'HARA, A.M., 

i. 

'^ Ex-President of the Litera7'y Society of St. Francis Xaviers Churchy N. Y. 



J STEPHEN MEARNS, PUBLISHER, 1 

§ NO. 73 DARCLAY STREET. j 

1^ I8S2. ^1 



SHORT HISTORICAL PLAYS AND FARCES, 

FOR 

COLLEGES, SCHOOLS, and LITERARY ASSOCIATIONS. 



FOR MALE CHARACTERS. 



CLONTARF, 

IN THREE ACTS. 



THE OFFICE SEEKERS. 

IN ONE ACT. 



BY 

ARTHUR J. O'HARA, A. M, 

Ex-President of the Literary Society of St. Francis Xavier s Chtirch., N. V. 



STEPHEN MEARNS, PUBLISHER, 

NO. 73 BARCLAY STREET. 

1882. 







^"l'.' 



Copyright^ 
ARTHUR J. O'HARA. 

1882. 



INTRODUCTION. 



In offering to the public this little work, I feel that there 
is no need of a long disquisition concerning its nature and 
object. 

There can be little doubt that there is a want in Colleges, 
Schools, and Literary Associations for short plays upon popular 
and interesting subjects. 

The author has endeavored to meet to some extent that 
want by this publication, and how well he has succeeded 
let the public judge. 

Other plays now written, and possessing the like advantages 
of brevity, facile representation, and previous success, will, 
I am told, be issued as soon as the demand justifies. 

I was present at the production of these literary efforts, 
and do not hesitate in recommending them. 

THEO. THIRY, S. J. 



DRAMA TIS PERSON.^. 



BRIEN BOIROIMHE, King of Ireland, 

MORROUGH O'BRIEN, His Eldest Son. 

MA LACHI^ Prince of Meat h^ afterwards King of Ireland. 

O KELL V, Prince of Connatight. 

MacMOHIR, Prince of Fermaftagh. 

0' CARROLL, Prince of OrgialL 

SCANLAN, Prince of Loch Lene, 

MOELMORDHA, Prince of Leiftster. 

SITRIC^ King of the Danes in Ireland. 

BRUARD, Admiral of the Danish Fleet. 

DO LA 7", A Danish General. 



CLONTARF. 

-o>$^*0'« 

ACT I. 

Time : Good Fkiday, April 23, A. D. 1014. 

Scene — The Iridi Lines. — Daybreak. 
Enter MacMohir. 

MaeMohir. Now fades the night, now day doth break once more 
On Clontarf s plain. Here all is peace and calm, 
As when the angry waves of ocean cease 
Betimes to voice in hollow tones their fury ; 
Yet, while they rest with sweet and placid mien, 
'Tis but a feigned sleep. The hour will come 
When winds will blow and waves will roll once more, 
In maddest rage. Then wave 'gainst wave will war 
For mastery. Here swayeth gentle Peace 
On this fair plain ; yet brief thy sway, fair Peace ! 
For 'neath the shadow of thy wings now lurks 
The gory form of War. Here lie the hosts, 
Though silent hosts ; yet beats each manly heart 
With hope of coming fray. Here Ireland's sons 
For Motherland will stand this famous day ; 
There Danish might, with many victories flushed, 
A final stand for empire makes. Then come 
The fray ! Nor doubt, nor fear shall sway to-day 
An Irish soul. How just our cause. He knows 
Who holds within His mighty hands the fate 
Alike of men and states. Then, blessed by Him, 
May victory perch upon our flag to-day. 



6 CLONTARF. 

Enter Morrough. 

Well met, good friend. What says our liege, the King 1 
Shall we engage those Danish thieves to-day ? 
Long seem the hours till face to face we stand, 
And bear the haughty f oeman down. 

MmToiigh. Nay, sir. 
Have patience yet. The welcome hour will come 
That ushers in the fray, and ends the curse 
And seals the doom of those foul pagan pests 
That long have plagued our land. 

MacM. Bear you the word ? 

Morrough. Not I. Within our camp to-day we lie : 
The King has willed it so. 

MacM. What freak is this ? 

MorrmigJi. Here comes the King. Let him an answer give. 

Enter Brien, Malachi and O'Kelly. 

Good day, my liege. 

MacM, How fare you, sir ? 

Brien. Why well, 
That is, if he who bears the weight of years 
Can e'er be well, then call me well, good friends. 
But if my years were greater still and bore 
Me down to very earth, this cause would make 
New blood to course within these olden veins 
And bring new light to eyes fast growing dim ; 
Aye, make those withered limbs to wear again 
The garb of youth. And you, most noble friends, 
I see the fire dart from each flashing eye, 
That tells the dauntless spirit deep concealed, 
Which now impatient waits the hour to strike ; 
And when we strike, let's strike, good sirs, a blow 
Which shall be felt beyond our well-loved isle 
In every haunt of Danish power and pride. 
Into those Northmen's breasts a telling fear 
Our willing swords must strike and fiercely strike. 



CLONTARF, 

We stand for right, for Motherland and faith ; 
For that fair land where first our eyes saw light ; 
For that fair land where lies our fathers' dust, 
Which sacred makes the very soil we tread. 
Land of the sage and saint ! polluted long 
By foreign foes, thy fields laid waste, 
The sacred temples of our faith profaned — 
Thou shalt not call in vain, O Motherland ! 
Upon thy sons to-day. With faithful hearts 
And willing hands we trusty weapons grasp, 
Prepared to fight, prepared to die, for thee, 
Our native land. 

MacM. Then give the word, my liege. 
And let our troops advance. See how they stand, 
Impatient for the fray ! They chafe, as chafes 
The blooded horse, who feels the staying curb 
And paws the ground impatient for the race ; — 
So stand our troops. Say, then, shall we advance ? 

Brien. Yes, pass the word along. — Yet stay, good friends ; 
We must not fight to-day. Nay, do not frown ; 
Tis prudence speaks ; and though our hearts be brave 
And arms strong, we must be prudent too. 

MacM. Where is the cause ? 

Brien. Your question 's just, MacMohir. 
Then know we yet await brave Donough's troops, 
To Leinster sent to strike a secret blow, 
And make more sure the issue of the fray. 
When it shall come. 

'Kelly. And scourge a traitor, too. 
God speed brave Donough in his noble w^ork, 
Which strikes alike at traitor and at foe. 
These Northmen fight at least an open war 
'Gainst foreign foes. But Leinster's Prince — vile cur ! — 
Makes war upon his own fair native land. 
Forgets his race, forgets his faith and all, 
To join those foreign hordes. 



8 CLONTABF, 

Brie 71. Too true, Alas f 
That evil passions thus should blind the heart 
And make men wear the hated traitor's name ! 
O Treason ! crime of crimes ! Though high thy birtli- 
E'en in the courts above, when one rebelled 
Against the awful majesty of God — 
Yet such a birth but makes thee viler still. 
And loathsome to the sight of each true man, 
Who shrinks with strongest dread from thy dark sway, 
Yet bravely dares each foreign foe to war. 
For strong though be the hated stranger's force, 
Yet may such force be met. He nobly stands, 
As men should stand, e'en face to face. But thou, 
Foul Treason ! dark as night, doth tread thy way 
Through gloomy paths, as if the light of day 
Would put to shame thy dark and deadly deeds. 
Who takes the life of fellow-man does that 
Which on his brow doth place the brand of- Cain, 
And calls God's curse upon his guilty head. 
With justice too, for he, vile wretch, has robbed 
The precious gift of life, and may not give 
The treasure back. The crime is great ; and yet, 
Methinks the crime is white as driven snow 
Compared to that foul deed the traitor does. 
He takes a nation's life ; his dagger falls 
Into the very vitals of the land 
That gave him birth. He strikes a fatal blow 
Which oft is felt through ages yet to come. 
In foreign rule, in cruel laws, in wrongs 
Which eat into the very soul, which make 
A welcome guest the messenger of Death. 
What say you, noble friends ; shall this sad fate 
Be Erin's lot ? 

All No! No! 

Malachi. Fear not, my liege. 
That day is distant yet, when Treason's wiles 



CLONTABF. 9 

Shall place beneath the stranger's feet our isle. 
Let Treason and Invasion join their ranks ; 
In Ireland's sons they'll meet a fearless foe. 

Brien. AVell spoken, sir. 

0' Kelly. And truly spoken, too. 

Brwn. I doubt it not. 

Marrough. And could he doubt 
Who sees our island ranks to-day ? Behold 
These men, at once our country's hope and pride ! 
What though the foemen's ranks be full ? Cheer still ! 
What though foul Treason stalks abroad ? Fear not ! 
What though our ranks depleted stand ? Hope on ! 
Those noble troops, who now expectant wait 
For call to war, will doubtless well supply, 
By willing hearts and grim resolve, all wants. 

Brien. God grant it so ! Seek now your tents, good friends. 

MorrougJi. Not yet, my liege. Here comes, methinks, a truce. 

0^ Kelly. Why, as I live, the Prince of Leinster comes ! 
But comes to death ! — I'll hew the traitor down ! 

Brien. Stay you, good sir. We must respect the truce. 

'Kelly. What ! traitor's truce ? My liege, you ask too much. 
With men who keep their faith, let faith be kept ; 
But not with him who bears a traitor's name. 

Bnen. Be calm ; two wrongs can never make a right. 
We must not stain our noble cause by wrong. 
What though that wrong be done for noble end ? 

0' Kelly. But, mark you, sir, how good a deed I do 
To strike this traitor down ? 'Twill help us well. 

Brien. Enough ! Ignoble deeds can never aid 
A noble cause. That cause is weak indeed 
Which needs must seek forbidden help. Mark well : 
'Twere better far to see our hosts dispersed. 
And triumph crown the foe. Our cause is just ; 
And such a cause can never know defeat. 
That land is never lost which bears such sons 
As this dear isle. Now, sirs, respect the flag, 



10 CLONTARF. 

For here it comes. 

Enter Leinster, atUnded by Danish Soldier bearing a flag of truce. 

Leinsier. In goodly time, I come 
To greet the noble Brien and his chiefs. 

0' Kelly. We seek no greetings from such men as you. 
\To Soldier.'] You, sir, are Danish, I believe ; if so. 
You're welcome here. VTo Leimtsr.] For you, 'twere better far 
You kept your lines. We wish no traitors here. 

Lei7ister. Come, Connaught, let your rising temper cool. 
I wish no speech with you : the King I seek. 

Brien. Speak on. Though painful be the task to hear, 
We'll bear it all. 

Leinster. O gracious sir, all thanks. 
Your kindness robs me of the gift of speech. 
Morrougli. Come sir, no sneers ; what brings you here ? 
Leinster. Impatient, too ? A sorry welcome this. 
Malachi. What welcome could you ask from Ireland's sons. 
When traitor to her cause ? O wretched man ! 
Have you the heart to raise unholy hands 
Against the land that gave you birth ? 

Leinster. Go on ; 
If preaching be your work, preach on, good sir. 

Malaclii. If preaching were my work, 'twere lost on you. 
Ignoble scion of a noble race. 
It fires my blood to see an Irish form 
Enclose a foreign heart. 

LeinsUr. If you have done 
With empty speech, we'll treat of business now. 
We stand on Clontarf's plain. The time has come 
When blood shall wash all bitter wrongs away. 
You call me traitor, noble sirs. What, then ? 
Have I not ample cause for that I do ? 
Brien. What cause can justify such wrong ? 
Leinster. What cause ? 
You ask me this, who drove me to the work 



CLONTARF. 11 

I do this day, by gross and grievous wrong. 

Brien. That you have suffered private wrongs, is true, 
From those of Brien's blood. But one slight wrong- 
Cloaks not foul Treason's hideous form. Alas ! 
That men should heed the fiery passion's voice 
And trample reason low ! For private wrong, 
You seek to crush your native country down. 

Leinster. I seek to crush my foes. 

Brien. But in those foes — 
Which your blind fury only makes your foes — 
You strike your countr}^ too. 

Leinster. I shall forget 
My errand here, if further time be lost 
In useless speech. Are you for fight to day ? 

Brien. No, not to-day : we hold our tents to-day. 

Leinster. Not ready yet ! Has Irish valor cooled 
Before the numbers of our valiant troops ? 
Perhaps you seek for peace ? 

Brien. Yes, with the sword. 
That potent pen shall trace for us a peace. 

Leinster. Then haste the fray ! If fear rules not your course, 
Come forth to-day ! Defiance here I give. 
If you refuse my call, go hide your heads 
Within your tents, and wear a coward's name. 

^ Kelly. 'Tis well you trust in Irish faith, vile man ! 
xlnd bear that spotless flag ; for, by my soul ! 
Your worthless life-blood quick should flow 
On sacred Irish soil. 

Leinster. Keep you your rage 
For battle when it comes ; you'll need it then. — 
Well sir, what answer shall I bear? 

Brien. Go back 
And tell your new-found Danish friends 
We will not fight to-day. — Be calm, good friends ; 
Nor taunts, nor threats, shall change me in my course. 

Leinster, Then, countrymen, farewell ! When next we meet 



CLOyTARF. 1^2 

Twill be to feel a Leiuster^s strong revenge. [E.vif. 

Brkn. Misguided man, farewell ! 
0' Kelly. O surely, sir, 
You will not let this haughty challenge pass ? 
If so, what triumph for our foes ! 'Tis true 
We lack the numbers of those Northern bands ; 
But battle is not ever to the strong 
In brutal strength alone. That cause is strong 
Which fights for right, what though it lack 
Of men : That cause is weak which trusts alone 
To brutal force, and lacks the higher power 
Of right. 

Brlen. Well said, good sir. But reasons good 
ISIust needs give way where better reasons rule. 
We cannot fight to-day. 

MacM. Why not, my liege ? 
Brien. O sirs, can you forget what day is this 'i 
McdacM. 'Tis Friday, sir. 
Brien. What else ? 
MacM. Good Friday, too. 
0' Kelly. Auspicious day to meet a pagan foe. 
Brkn. Xay, sirs; we must not fight this hallowed day, 
Else we were pagans too. What I fight this day, 
Which marks the greatest deed of truest love— 
The Saviour s death I What ! shall men war this day, 
Which brought a peace between our God and us ! 
As we are faithful sons of Holy Faith, 
We shall respect this day by acts of peace. 
There's time enough for war. 

Cy Kelly. But how, my liege, 
If they shall force the fight ? What would you, then ? 
Brien. Our course is plain : we must resist the foe. 
Morrough. Then look you, sir ; behold the foeman's camp ! 
The Northmen seek the fray ; the standard's up 
Which calls the troops to war. Shall we lie down 
While wrong doth rear on high its haughty head ? 



CLONTABF, 13 

Your scruple's just which seeks for peace to-day. 
Now see you, sir, we do not battle give. 
If then it comes, what better day than this 
For Christian troops to fight ? 

Brien. Well said, my son. 
And since it must be so, that 'gainst our will 
We fain must fight, the day will bless our cause. 
Now hence, good sirs : seek every man his post. 
You,- noble Prince of Meath, shall hold the left ; 
And you, good son, command the right of line ; 
The centre leave for me and Connaught's Prince. 
MacMohir, you your station know. Farewell ! 
When next we meet, may victory crown our brows ! — 
Stay you, my son. 

Princes. Farewell, my liege, farewell ! [Exsunt 

Brien. Farewell ! How sadly sounds that word to-day ! 
What if it were a last farewell ! My son, 
I feel I stand within the gloomy shade 
Of death. This day, perhaps, shall end a life 
Whose work is done. 

Morrough. Nay, father, speak not thus. 
Your words of gloom do rive my soul with grief. 

Brien. We cannot change our fate. 'Tis well, my son, 
That man should feel the coming step of death 
Ere falls the blow. I feel my voyage o'er : 
The haven comes in view. When I am gone — 

Morrough. O spare me this sad blow ! You cannot die ; 
Your country needs your noble service yet. 
Why seek this fight ? Let younger men control 
The field and bear the brunt of ftght to-day. 

Brien. Why, son, what nobler place than this to die — 
Where Erin meets her foes ? What fitter time 
Than this great day, which saw a Saviour die ? 

Morrough. But if you fall the cause is lost, my liege. 

Brien. Nay, son ; the cause of Ireland does not rest 
Upon one feeble man ; if so, 'twere weak, 



14 CLONTAEF. 

And well might fall. But you, my son, shall fill 
Your father's place. God grant you fill it well ! 
Morrovgli. But if I too should fall ? 
Brien. Yet Erin stands : 
Her cause is just, and justice never needs 
For noble hearts to fight injustice down. 
Hence now, my son. Farewell ! And if for aye, 
Why, then, for aye, farewell ! 

Morrough. Farewell, my liege ! 
Oh you have cast a gloom upon my soul 
Which will not lift ! 

Bi-len. Come, son, be manly now : 
No time for private grief : Your country calls ; 
I see the foes advance. Then seek your post. 
Morrough. I go. Yet, father, once again, farewell ! 
Brien. Light of my life, my noble child, farewell ! 

{Exit Morrough. 

Now comes the battle on ! How shall it end ! 

O Father ! bless our country's cause to-day ; 

And w^hen the sun dotb set upon this plain 

May triumph crown our arms. But if we fail— 

If Treason and Invasion crush our ranks 

And bear the victor's palm— we'll bide our day : 

'Twill come, we know, in Thy own gracious time. 

Till then, Thy holy will be done ! [^'^'^'^^• 



ACT II. 

Scene— r7i6 Danish Lines.— Mid-day. 
Enter Sitric and Dolat. 

Sitric. How goes the battle, Dolat ? Hold we our own 
Dolat Those Irish press us hard, my liege. I fear- 
Sitric. You fear for w^hat ? Not for our cause, I trust ; 
For that is safe. They cannot stand our force, 



CLONTARF. 15 

Which many lands have helped to swell this day. 

Dolat. Do not mistake the foemen's strength. 

Sitric. Mistake ? 
No fear of that : I'm in their councils there. 
Think you I forced this fight to-day for naught ? 
They're weak in men, for Donough, Brien's son, 
Is absent with his troops. 

Bolat. How know you this ? — 
But why need ask ? Our spies, no doubt ? 

Sitric. Our spies ? 
Well, yes ; our friends within the Irish lines 
Have kindly told us that. 

Dolat, What ! traitors there ? 
Methought no treason grew on Irish soil. 

Sitric. Ah ! there you err, good sir ; for that's a weed 
That grows on every soil. Do you forget 
The self-same ground that bringeth forth the rose 
Brings forth the thorns too ? Yes, this good isle, 
Which proudly boasts of true and loyal hearts, 
Can grow its traitors too. See Leinster's Prince — 
Where is his place to-day ? 

Dolat. Too true. Alas ! 
That we should need the aid of such a man I 

Sitric. War has no place for feelings such as yours ; 
For all is fair in war, you know, good friend. — 
But here comes tidings from the fray. 

Enter Bruard. 

Well, sir? 

Bruard. The day is doubtful yet, my liege. 

Sitric. How's this ? Where is that fiery spirit now 
Which erstwhile filled our troops ? Can they forget 
Their fathers' deeds, whose noble deeds have brought 
Beneath our Northern sway so many lands. 
And made the Northmen's name a name of fear ? 



16 CLONTARF 

Shall Ireland stand alone, and fail to yield 
Before our arms ? Send on our choicest troops — 
Old Norway's mailed band ! Speed you, good sir. 

Bruard. Those noble troops will never fight again. 

Sitric. Not fight ? Do they refuse my call ? 

Bruard. No, liege ; 
But they have heard a higher call than yours. 

Sitric. A higher call ! 

Bruard. The call of death, my liege. 
Those noble men will never grasp again 
And wield the mighty sword : Lives not a man 
Of all that band : their bodies strew the plain. 

Sitric. What ! Slain, you say ? The flower of my troops ! 
Oh, this, in truth, is gloomy news you bring ! 
Live yet their royal chiefs ? 

Bruard. The princes, too, 
Who led that band, have met a common fate. 

Sitnc. Alas ! what shall avail against such foes ? 

Dolat. Cheer you, my liege ; the day will yet be ours. 
The Irish King still lives, and while he lives 
They'll make a noble stand. But when he falls — 

Sitric. Aye, when he falls : but will he fall, good sir ? 

Dolat. O doubt it not : it is foretold. 

Sitric and Bruard. Foretold ? 

Dolat. Why, yes, my liege : you've heard our fathers tell 
The oracle has said : If Brien on ^ 

A Friday fights, then sureh^ shall he fall. 
And when he falls, why, falls his country too. 

Sitric. I had not thought of that. Where stands the King ? 
Methought the weight of years would keep him free 
From contact with the fray. 

Bruard. Not so, my liege. 
He holds the chief command, yet keeps aloof 
Nor plays an active part. 

Sitric. How seek him, then. 
To strike the blow which gives the day to us ? 






CLONTAEF. 17 

Bruard. A bloody work ! Who seeks the King must wade 
Through waves of blood. 

Sitinc. To whose strong hand shall fall 
The glorious work ? — which work must help us well ; 
For if we fail to-day — 

Dolat. We cannot fail. 
There's vigor yet in Danish hands, my lord, 
And noble blood yet flows in Danish veins. 
What though the Irish press us hard ? Doubt not 
We'll fight as sons of worthy sires. 

Sliric. Well said. 
Then to the field once more, ye noble men. 
And bear our standards up. A nation's fate 
Lies in our hands to-day. If we succeed, 
This isle is ours : a noble prize, good sirs. 
And if we fail, — our empire fades away. 
Three hundred years of mingled hopes and fears 
Will find a common grave on Clontarf's plain. 
You, fearless Bruard, seek the Irish King, 
And strive to cut him down. 

Bruard. A welcome work. 
Though all the powers of Erin's isle should stand 
To block my course, and stay this willing hand, 
I fear them not. The King shall fall. Farewefl ! [E.vit, 

Sitric. Blessed be your work ! Now, Dolat, seek your place. 
When next we meet, may every foe be crushed. 
Strain every nerve, bring every power in pla}' : 
Let pity hide its head : let war alone 
Hold rule this fateful day. 

Dolat. I haste, my liege. 
Where danger rules, there Dolat stands. 

Sitric. Well said. 
Now, once again, good friend, we seek the field. 
And wait the end of this thrice bloody day. [Eiveunf. 



18 CLONTARF, 

ACT III. 
Scene — The Irish Lines. — Sun.set. 

Enter MacMohir. 

MacMohir. Now fades the day, and darkness comes once more 
On Clontarf s plain. Here once again I stand. 
But what a change a few short hours have brought ! 
And 3'et the record of those fleeting hours 
Shall oft be told in ages yet unborn. 
The hours are dead, but that shall never die 
Which here this day was wrought : a people freed 
From foreign foes. Thy hand, O God ! was here. 
Thy strength was with us in this bloody fight. 
And Thou, Great God ! our heartfelt thanks doth claim. — 
Here come our noble chiefs. 

Enter O'Kelly and Malachi. 

Well met, good sirs. 

Thank God ! the day is ours. 

^ Kelly. 'Tis true, 'tis ours ; 
But dearly bought. What fearful slaughter here 
Of Erin's sons, of prince and peasant too ! 
The noble Morrough, Brien's son and hope, 
Is dead ! 

MacM. A noble soul ! Sweet be his rest ! 
How fell the valiant chief ? 

^ Kelly. As heroes fall. 
But ere he fell, he cut two Princes down 
Of Norway's warlike line. 

MacM. What other foes 
Of lofty rank are down ? 

Malachi. A traitor's down : 
The Prince of Leinster met the righteous fate 
Of death. He'll never bid defiance more. 



CLONTARK 11) 

0' Kelly. So ma}' all traitors die I 
MacM, Amen to that I 

Enter O'Garroll and Scanlan. 

Where stays our noble King ? I see him not. 
I long to press his withered hand, and see 
The smile of triumph light his face ; to hear 
A blessing on his war-stained trusty troops 
Fall from his lips. 

0'' Carroll. You'll wait in vain for him. 

Malaclii. In vain ? What can you mean ? Oh, speak ; I pray ! 

Scanlan. He means — the King is dead I 

All. The King is dead : 

Malaclii. Then rest his soul I — a noble spirit sleeps. 
How^ did he fall ? Not by an Irish hand, 
I fondly trust. 

0^ Carroll. Nor trust in vain, my liege. * 

He fell by Danish hands. 'Twas Bruard's sword 
That sought his noble heart, and struck the blow 
Which fills our hearts with grief. 

0' Kelly. Foul was that blow ! 
But my good sword shall drink the villain's blood. 

Scanlan. Nay, let your sword sleep in its sheath, good friend ; 
The King has been avenged. 

Malaclii. How fell the King ? 

Scanlan. Why in the very hour when fled the foe. 
Within his tent he sought his God in prayer. 
There passed a band of fleeting Danes — 

Malaclii. And then ? 

Scanlan. They did the fatal deed. 

^ Kelly. Where were the guards ? 

C Carroll. They followed up the foe. 
[To MalacM.] You hold the sceptre now. What pleasure you, 
In this regard ? 

Malaclii. Why every honor show 



20 CLONTARF. 

To all that's left of noble Brien now. 
Do what we will, he's worthy of it all. 

C Carroll. Well said, my liege. And now that Brien sleeps, 
Well may we speak his golden deeds. His name 
Shall stand among the mighty names of earth, 
And justly stand, for that he did in us 
Can ne'er too oft be told. Beneath his rule 
Has prospered well our land. Have we not heard ^ 

Our fathers tell how many years of peace 
Did bless our land while noble Brien ruled ? 
Let, then, those years of peace be told for him 
As brighter deeds than all his deeds of war. 
Yet was he valiant, too. Let history say 
How well he fought those fierce and warlike men 
Who for three hundred years have cursed our land. 
Mark where the temples of our Holy Faith, 
By those vile pests destroyed, have raised again 
Their sacred spires, 'neath Brien's fostering care ! 
Science and art in him have ever found 
A noble friend. Look o'er this lovely isle. 
And see the many schools that owe him life ! 
A Christian, too — the Church e'er found him true : 
And well this day may she lament the fate 
Of Ireland's King. I little doubt, my liege. 
Where'er this gloomy tale is told, will rise 
From faithful Irish hearts the fervent prayer : 
God rest brave Brien's soul ! 

All. Amen to that ! 

Scanlan. What Irish earth shall shroud his loved remains '? 

MalacM. Within the church he loved, and loved so well, 
Armagh's cathedral grand, his bones shall lie. 
There let them rest, while fall a nation's tears 
For him who sleeps. 'Tis sorry news you bring ; 
Yet sorry though it be, it cannot hide 
The glory of this day. 

Scanlan. 'Tis true, my liege. 
Long shall the pirate Northmen feel the blow 



CLONTARF. 21 

Which we have dealt this day ; and feel it more, 
For on this day they staked their all. 

0' Kelly. And lost. 

Scanlan, Yes, lost. Ten thousand Korthraen strew the plain, 
Their bodies cold in death. 

Malachi. What loss is ours ? 

Scardan. 'Tis said that seven thousand Irish hearts 
Are stilled in death. Peace to their souls I 

All. Amen ! 

Malachi. So ends the strife, long j^ears ago begun I 
So dawns a brighter da}^ for Erin's isle ! 
Our work is done, right noble friends. And now 
Well may we draw our men from Clontarf's plain, 
From this fair plain whose name shall never die ; 
For from this time till time itself shall cease 
Shall Clontarf's name be told with heartfelt joy. 
Yes, every Irish heart shall throb with pride 
At far-famed Clontarf's name. Yes, every eye 
Shall brighter grow when told the thrilling tale 
How fell the Northmen down, as falls the grain 
When 'neath the reaper's weapon keen it falls. 
And falls to rise no more. Come weal, come woe. 
For Erin's isle, in sunshine or in gloom. 
In words of gold this glorious deed shall stand. 
And, ages hence, when we have turned to claj^. 
With throbbing hearts old Erin's sons shall tell 
How in this younger time we nobly fought 
On Clontarf's plain to-day. {E.veunt omnes. 



%^^ 



^1^ THE END. - -^^ 



DRAMATIS PERSON.^. 



HOX. W. y. PRIMEVAL, Mayor of MythviUc. 

JVM. yOXES, Private Secretary to His Honor. 

HON. JULIUS TRUTHFUL, E.A.A. Ith IV, an Office Seeker. 

MARK BLUSTERMAN, President IV. B. P. D. R. R. A., a 
poiverful political society. 

JAKE WINDBAG, Secretary of above. 

HON. JESSE STUBBS, I. 0. C. S. 29th IV, an Office Seeker. 

JOHN BLUFFER, an Office Seeker. 

JAMES DEXTER, an Office Seeker. 

ADOLPHUS SLEEKER, an Office Seeker. 

SAM. CH INNER, President A. W. U. P. A. P. R. S., a powerful 
political association. 

MOSES SCRIBBLE, Secretary, of abo7:e. 

J A CK FL YER, a Telegraph Messenger. 



THE OFFICE SEEKERS. 



Scene— J/a^/^r's Office. — Mayor seated. 



Enter Jones. 

Jones, Your Honor, there are about 500 gentlemen waiting to 
see you in the ante-room. 

Mayor. Well, can't you get rid of them in some manner ? I 
have just come from a meeting of the Hoboken Bridge and 
Jersey Land Improvement and Emigration Co., and I am too 
exhausted to see anybody. Politicians, I suppose ? 

Jones. They are all well dressed and wear an abundance of 
jewelry. 

Mayor. Oh dear ! I am to be pitied. Go and see if you can't 
get rid of them. Say I am not well — tired — for them to call to- 
morrow — tell them anything you like, only get rid of them. Oh, 
why did I ever take this position ! Why didn't I remain in the 
quiet of private life! I ought to be more sensible at my age. 
I am only 86, and I am afraid, — oh dear ! I am very much afraid 
that I will fill a premature grave by this politics. {Exit Mayor. 

Jones. I think I will fill a premature grave myself. Well, 
I declare, here's another. 

Enter Bluffer. 

Bluffer. I say, Mr. Jones, won't you let me see the old man ? 
You know you used to live up in my Ward, the old 4th. You 
ain't going to forget your old friends, are you ? 

Jones. But he's not well. 



THE OFFICE SEEKERS. 24 

Bluffer. Oil, come now, Jones ; that won't do. Why 1 saw- him 
about half an hour ago, and he looked first-rate. 

Jones. But he's not here at all. 

Bluffer. Now, Mr. Jones, that won't do. I saw- him coming in. • 

Jones. Well, how do 3-ou know he didn't go out the other w^ay ? 

Bluffer. All right, Mr. Jones ; I see you don't want to let me 
see him. Wait till you run for office. Won't I fix you ? I will, 
just as sure as my name is John Bluffer. [Ent. 

Enter Dexter. 

Bexter. Mr. Jones, won't you have the extreme kindness to 
hand His Honor my card ? I am in an awful hurry. He knows 
me. Got to catch the 9 o'clock lightning express for Shadtown. 
I belong to the old New York families. I am afraid I won't be in 
time. U^ooU at watch.'] Just tell the Mayor I am a son of Old 
Dexter. Went to school with him— not myself, but the governor 
—my father, I mean. Please hurry, Mr. Jones. [Looks at mitch.] 

Jones. Perhaps if you are in such a hurry you better call again ? 

Dexter. Can't, really. Most important public business ; must 
see him. 

Jones. Important public business ? Well, sit down, then. 

Dexter [looks at watch]. I can't, now. Got no time. I must 
catch that 9 o'clock for Shadtown. [Exit. 

Enter Sleeker and a crowd. 

Sleeker. Mr. Jones, please take my card to the Mayor, and I am 
sure he will see me. I am a member of the Committee of Seventy. 
Yes, Mr. Jones, I am a member of that distinguished body. 
But you may tell His Honor than I don't want an office. [Cries of 
Oh! Oh! from crowd.] No, sir, I do not seek an office. [Oh! 
Oh! from crowd.] But I just want to let him know that if an 
office seeks me, I will feel myself bound to accept that office. 

Jones. No use, now ; you can't see him. 

Crowd. Yes, we will ; see if we don't. 

Jones. Well, step outside a moment, and he may see you one 
by one. [Exeiuit amnes. 



THE OFFICE SEEKERS. 25 



Enter Mayor, from opposite side. 

Mayor, Well, what luck ? 

Jones. No use, Your Honor ; can't put 'them off — worse than 
leeches, they are. I tried everything ; told them you were sick 
— but that wouldn't work. Said you were tired — they only 
laughed sarcastically. Said you were out — they saw you coming 
in. I tried everything ; but no use. 

Mayor. I'll resign ; I can't stand this work. It will cut me off 
in the bloom of my days, I am certain. Is there no private door 
by which I can leave this place ? 

Jones. Every way is well watched. If I might venture to 
advise, I should say admit them by degrees, and then you will 
get rid of them quicker. I'll see and get rid of them myself. 

Mayor. Oh dear ! this politics will be the death of me. Oh 
dear ! Well, let them in by degrees. \^Exit Jones. 

Jones \ outside]. Now, only one at a time. Got to take your 
turn now. Only one at a time. Come on, Mr. Truthful. 

Enter Jones and Truthful. 

Jones [reading TrutlifuVs card]. The Hon. Julius Truthful, 
E. A. A. 4th W. 

Truthful. How is Your Honor? Very happy to make yer 
distinguished acquaintance. Heard yer was an old fogy ; glad 
to see yer good for 20 years yet. How's Mrs. Mayor and all the 
young Mayors ? How do you like the office ? Excellent posi- 
tion ; but yer'l get used to it. I — but I suppose you know me ? 

Mayor. Eeally — that is — in fact — I believe — that is to say, 
yes — I mean no. Indeed you have the advantage of me. Never 
remember to have met you, Mr. Truthful. Your name is not 
common among politicians. 

Truthful. What ! never heard of me, the Hon. Julius Truthful. 
Why, sir, I was born down in the 4th Ward, I was. Have held 
most important positions in public life. None of yer stuck-up, 
college-bred, kid-gloved politicians, I ain't. I am an American 



26 THE OFFICE SEEKERS, 

self-made man, I am. Just look at me, Mr. Mayor ; just look at 
me. I am an American self-made man. 

Mayor. Really, I am very happy. 

Truthful Yes, sir ; 1 began life low, but I worked my way up 
till I rose to the proud position of— 

Mayor. President, perhaps ? 

Truthful No, not quite. 

Mayor. Governor, maybe ? 

Truthful Well, not quite ; but not far from it. 

Mayor. Well, Mayor, then ? 

Truthful No, sir ; not quite that either. No, sir ; I rose to 
the noble, excellent and highly-important position of Assistant 
Alderman of my native Ward. Yes, sir ; Asst. Alderman. 

Mayor. Ah, indeed : Very happy to know you, Mr. Truthful. 
What can I do for you ? 

Truthful I understand you have the appointment of all the 
Commissionerships, and just called to let yer know that if 
appointed to one I will not decline it. 

Mayor. There is only one left, and there are so many applica- 
tions, and so many strongly-recommended applicants, that I am 
afraid— not knowing your capacity— I shall be compelled to de- 
cline for the present. 

Truthful Oh I recommendations yer want I I got, plenty of 
them. [Goe^ to door and calls out: Say, felloics! cowe along; the 
Mayor wants to see yer. Come along! ] 

Enter Blusterman and WmDBAG. 

Mayor \ciMe]. Now, I am in for it. Oh dear ! Til be cut off— 

Truthful Mr. Mayor, the Hon. Mark Blusterman, President 
of the Workingmen's Benevolent, Protective, Democratic, 
Republican, Reform Association of the 4th Ward, one of the 
most influential and powerful organizations in the city. 

Mayor [aside']. Must be, with such a name. [To Blusterman.] 
How do you do, Mr. Blusterman ? 

Blusterman. Your Honor, I am not a proud man, so to speak : 



THE OFFICE SEEKERS. 27 

but I do feel proud at shaking the hand of the noblest work of 
God — an honest man — like Your Honor. 

Mayor, Thank you. [Seems affected.'] 

Blnsterman. Your Honor, we are the representatives of the 
Workingmen's Benevolent, Protective, Democratic, Republican, 
Reform Association, one of the most powerful political institu- 
tions ever founded, as my Hon. friend, Ex-Asst. Alderman 
Julius Truthful, has just said. We have known Mr. Truthful 
from youth, and will vouch for his honesty, sobriety, integrity, 
veracity, accuracy, and capacity. Your Honor, I will now in- 
troduce the Hon. Jake Windbag, a rising young politician, 
Secretary of our Association, who will read an address signed 
by 500,000 of the most influential citizens of this great muddy 
tropolis. [ Windbag hows to Mayor.'] 

Mayor. Oh dear ! you won't read the names, too, will you, 
Mr. Windbag ? 

Windbag. Only the most prominent, Your Honor; about 50,000 
or so. Won't take me long; I am a quick reader. Learned to 
read on a locomotive, I did. That accounts for it. 

Mayor [aside]. Wish you and your crowd were on a locomotive 
now. 

Windbag [unrolls long paper and reads]. To His Honor, the 
Mayor. Honored sir : We the undersigned, citizens of this city, 
recommend to your consideration the Hon. Julius Truthful, 
for — [N^oise outside. 

Jones [goes to door and says]. No, you can't now. 

Stubbs. Yes, I must. I am an American citizen ; I know my 
rights. Let me in, 1 say ! 

Jones. But he's engaged. 

Stubbs. Now, we'll get in. Come on, fellows ! 

Enter Stubbs with Chinner and Scribble. 

Jones [reads card]. The Hon. Jesse Stubbs, I. O. C. S. 29th W. 
Stubbs. How is Your Honor ? Know me, I suppose ? Hon. 
Jesse Stubbs, Inspector of Cobble Stones for the 29th Ward. 
Mayor. Glad to see you. [Aside.] Wish you had broken 



38 THE OFFICE SEEKERS. 

your neck on the cobble stones. [To Stubbs]. Well, what can I 
do for you ? 

Stubbs. I am an applicant for a vacant Commissionership, and 
will introduce Hon. Sam. Chinner, President of the American 
Workingmen's United Protective Ancillary Political Reform 
Society. 

Chinner. How do you do ? On behalf of the American Work- 
ingmen's United Protective Ancillary Political Reform Society, 
I beg leave to introduce Mr. Moses Scribble, Secretary of our 
Society, who will read a petition signed by 500,000 of the most 
influential citizens of this emporium. 

Mayar. Don't read the names please, or I'll be cut off in the — 

Chinner. Oh, only the most influential — about 100,000 or so. 
Won't take Mr. Scribble long; you'll be delighted to see him 
travel over the paper, you will. 

Mayor [(isidel. I'd be more delighted to see you travel out of 
here. 

Scribble, [unrolls paper and reads]. To His Honor — 

Windbag. Mr. Maj^or ? Your Honor ? I say ? 

Mayor. Oh, I beg pardon. [To Stubbs and party.] Gentlemen, 
those gentlemen began first ; let them finish. 

Stubbs and Chinner. No, we're just as good as they are. Let 
them wait. We won't be choked down. Go ahead. Scribble. 

Scribble. We, the undersigned — 

Truthful and Blusterman. Go ahead. Windbag. We won't be 
choked down, either. 

Windbag. To His Honor the — 

Mayor. Oh, please do stop. [Sits doicn.] 

Windbag [reads same time as Scribble]. — Mayor : We, the un- 
dersigned, citizens of this city, anxious to put faithful men in 
office, do recommend with the greatest confidence the 
Hon. Julius Truth — 

Scribble [reads same tinw as Windbag]. We, the following, 
anxious to perpetuate a republican form of government, and 
sincerely desirous to preserve our fellow-citizens from the 
evil designs — 



THE OFFICE SEEKEB8, 29 

Mayor. Oh, gentlemen! pray stop ! If you go on, you'll cut 
me oif in the bloom of my days. Can't you take turns ? Let 
Mr. Windbag read a little, then Mr. Scribble can read a little, and 
then I can hear a little of both sides. My Secretary will tell each 
when to stop. 

All. First rate. That will do. All right. 

Mayor. Go on, Mr. Scribble. 

Scribble. — of corrupt and wicked men — 

Jones. Time. 

Windbag. — ful, threatened as we are on all sides by corrupt 
politicians — 

Jones. Time. 

Scribble. — and other villanous personages, who never — 

Jones. Time. 

Windbag. — seeking whom they may devour, like the dragon 
that — 

Jones. Time. 

Scribble. — drank in the pure knowledge of republican institu- 
tions, — 

Jones. Time. 

Windbag. — goes to every part of the earth ; and therefore, we 
recommend, with the most — 

Jones. Time. 

Scribble. — glorious as they are ; and therefore, resolved that — 

Jones. Time. 

Windbag. — glowing confidence, our esteemed fellow-citizen, — 

Jones. Time. 

Scribble. — the Hon. Mr. Stubbs deserves the support of every 
honest man. — 

Jones. Time. 

Windbag. — Hon. Julius Truthful, for any office in the gift of 
Your Honor. Signed by, John — 

Jones. Time. 

Scribble. — In accordance with the above we hereby affix 
our names. John — 

Windbag. — Jones, Samuel Phillips, William Glassin, John — 



30 THE OFFICE SEEKERS. 

Mayor. Ob, gentlemen ! please let the names pass. Really, I 
can't stand it ; it will cut me off in the bloom of my days if you 
go on. Do please leave out the names. 

Jones [ciside to Mayor']. Tell them to leave the petitions ; that's 
the way to get rid of them. 

Mayor {brightly']. Gentlemen, suppose you leave those docu- 
ments with me. I can then read them over at mj leisure. 

CJiinner. No, Your Honor ; Ave must go on. It won't take 
Mr. Scribble long to read our 100,000 names. Why, he's got one 
done already ; that leaves only 99,999. Think of that! 

Mayor. Oh dear ! I'll be cut off — 

Windbag. Your Honor, on behalf of the 500,000 influential 
citizens who signed our petition, I must go on. Onl}^ got 499,995 
to read. Won't take me long. 

Mayor. Oh dear! Well, go on. 

Jones. Your Honor, I'll be back in a moment. Please time 
them. I must see to that noisy crowd outside. 

Windbag. — Gully Williams, James Dockey, Edward Wilkins, 
Julius Dunker — 

Mayor. Time. 

Scribble. — John Williams, William Johnson, Sam Loos, Dick 
Canter, Peter — 

Blusterman. Now, that ain't fair; you gave him more time; 
that ain't fair. Now, we are going right ahead ; we w^on't be 
choked down. Go ahead. Windbag. 

Windbag. — Frank Anderson — 

Chinner. We won't be choked down, either. Go on, Scribble. 

Scnbble [same time as Windbag]. James Jackson, John John- 
son, William Williams, Robert Roberson, John Burder, Samuel 
White, Michael Black, Francis Brown, James Green, Charles 
Gray— 

Windbag [same time as Scribble]. Jerry Bowen, Luis Londeran, 
Meyer Hendrick, Walter Walters, Giovanni Maccaroni, Jack 
Ferryman, Cornelius Oldman, Luke Lucky, Thomas May— 

[During above reading, Jones returns. Mayor puts Jiands to Ms 
ears. Hands draion away by Windbag and Scribble.] 



THE OFFICE SEEKERS. 31 

Enter hoy with despatch. 

Flyer. Here you are — a despatch for His Honor the Mayor. 

Jones. Silence ! Despatch for the Ma5^or. Wait a moment. 

[All stop. 

Mayor. Head it aloud, Mr. Jones. Public business, I presume ? 

Flyer. Here, sign my book first, and let me go. Business is 
lively, you know. [Jones signs hook. Exit Flyer. 

Jones [reads']. The Capitol, June 31st, 1873. Legislature has 
just adopted the 125th amendment to the Charter, taking away 
the appointing power from the Mayor. The Governor has signed 
it, and it is now a law. And therefore — 

Chinner. Oh, thunder ! lost all our time with this old fogy ! 
Let's go. 

Blusterman. The Legislature was sensible in taking away the 
appointing power from such an old fogy. [Exit all hut Truthful. 

Truthful [ironically'], xlllow me to condole with you — Good- 
day. [Exit^ growling. 

Jones. Ha ! Ha ! That settled them. 

Mayor. This is quite unexpected. Another amendment to the 
Charter ? 

Jones. Oh, that's too good ! Ha ! Ha ! 

Mayor. Well you may laugh, but it will kill me politically. 
How can I expect a re-election when I have no patronage to 
bestow ? Oh dear ! I'll be cut off in the — 

Jones. Oh, Your Honor, I can't help being merry over the 
joke. 

Mayor. What joke ? 

Jones. Why, I sent that message myself. Told you I'd get rid 
of them. 

Mayor. Good, faithful soul ! I'll appoint you to that vacant 
Commissionership yourself. Now I'll go to the quiet of private 
life. [Moves toicards door. Noise outside. 

Jones [goes t^ door and reticns quickly']. They're coming back — 
they found it out. That messenger boy made a donation party 
of me — gave me away. 



32 THE OFFICE SEEKERS. 

Re-enter Truthful, Blusterman, Windbag, Chinner, 
Stubbs and Scribble. 

Truthful All a mistake, Your Honor. 

Stuhhs. False despatch, Your Honor. 

Blusterma7i. Yery remarkable mistake. 

Mayor. Gentlemen, I have filled the only vacant Commission- 
ership ; so, good-day. 

Truthful. You'll never hold another public office, you won't. 
You'll never get a chance to fill any more vacant Commissioner- 
ships. No, sir ; I'll use all my influence to defeat you, I will. 
The W. B. P. D. R. R. A. will fix you, they will. They won't 
have their resolutions treated with contempt by an old fogy like 
you. 

Stuhhs. Oh, you old fossil! you ain't fit to be inspector of lamps, 
you ain't. Don't you ever attempt to run for office again. If 
you do, my American Workingmen's United, Protective, Ancil- 
lary, Political, Reform Society will send you into oblivion. They 
won't be choked down. [Exeunt mmes. 

Jones. Your Honor, you see the difficulty of having patronage 
to bestow. 

Mayor. Oh dear ! I'll resign, I will. I am only 86, and if this 

work continues, I'll be cut off in the bloom of my days, I will. 

Oh dear ! Why, oh why did I ever take this position, and subject 

myself to the irrepressible importunities of those pests of society, 

The Office Seekers ! 

[FMt, leaning on arm of Jones. 

— T^P~|^ THE END. ^- 



LIBRARY OF CONGRES* 




017 401 594 6 



SHOUT I»IL.Jlk.YS FOU SCHOOLS, 

Colleges, liiterary Associations, etc. 

For Male Characters. 

BY 

ARTHUR J. O'HARA, A.M., 

Ex-President of the Literary Society of St. Francis Xavier^s Church, 
New York. 



It is the intention to publish a series of these play- 
books, each number containing one historical play and 
one farce. The first number contains the following plays : 

CLONTARF. 

4 An historical play, in Three Acts, descriptive of the famous battle 
V'- between the Irish and the Danes, fought Good Friday, April 23, 
A, D. 1014. 

THE OFFICE SEEKERS. 

A farce, in One Act, presenting the tribulations of a public man 
with patronage to bestow, and the aggressive imponunities of 
those irrepressible gentlemen known as office seekers. 

These plays offer the advantages of brevity, facility of 
representation, and previous successful production. 

Clontarf was first played by the Literary Society of 
St. Francis Xavier's Church, in Chickering Hall, N. Y. , 
and The Office Seekers in the Hall of the College of 
St. Francis Xavier, N. Y., by the same Society. Both plays 
were favorably received by large and intelligent audiences. 

Believing that these plays will meet a want yet unsup- 
plied, and that their contents and popular price will re- 
commend them to all interested, the author confidently 
sends them forth, hoping they will meet with a favorable 
reception. 

Single Ooi>ies, 15 <Jents. 
12 Coi>ies, ^1.50. 35 Ooi>ies, $2.50. 



Sent, post-paid, on receipt of the price. 
:4ddr€ss all orders to 

STEPHEN MEARNS, 

Printer and Publisher, 

73 Barclay St. , New York. 



